


Eglairaith.

by hennethgalad



Series: Hador Lórindol. [8]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 02:46:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15742569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hennethgalad/pseuds/hennethgalad
Summary: Fingolfin sends Hador away before Nargothrond lest he fall in love with Finrod.(assumes that Finrod loves Glorfindel. see 'Laurelöt' if you like, though it’s not necessary)





	Eglairaith.

  
             

 

  
   Hador had fallen asleep in mid-word. Disappointed, Fingolfin pulled on his cloak again and stepped out into the night. The first chill of autumn crept around his ankles, the air was still, quiet but for the murmur of the Narog, wandering over the stones below their camp, bringing the freshness of water to lips parched by the endless dry plain. The horses moved quietly in the greenery at the river's edge, relishing the sweetness of new growth. Fingolfin gazed up at the stars of Varda, and let his mind drift back, into the days of his youth, matching his dreams against his world, and laughing at the strange melody that had brought him to this river at this time.

   The dawn was surreptitious, he scarcely noticed the fading of the stars until his shadow sprang before him and he turned to face the sudden sunrise, and smiled; Hador would be rested...  
   The Mortal chose to sleep face down, one arm before his face, as though ready to shield him, but limp with sleep. The depth of Mortal sleep baffled Fingolfin, they seemed almost dead, remote and lost to the world. He wondered if they returned then to whence they had come, resting their spirits beyond the Walls of the World, or if they merely ceased, like a dammed stream, pooling their strength, ready for the intensity of Mortal growth, and Mortal being.  
   Hador ! he thought, what has he done to me ?

   As though the Mortal had heard his thought, Hador stirred and muttered in his sleep. Fingolfin, who had been watching him sleep for more than a year, recognised the signs, Hador would soon awaken, hungry for him, and for food. He could smell the bread being taken from the field ovens, and knew that soon they could eat. But first...

   He drew the sheet back and sucked in his breath, still enchanted with the beauty of the Mortal. Love stabbed at his heart, and with every day that passed his rage increased, that Eru had gifted these Mortals to the world, only to snatch them away in an instant. As though He loved them so much that He could not bear to be parted with them for long. Did He value the Eldar so much less ? Fingolfin thought of Alqualondë, and of Helcaraxë, and of Losgar; his own family, his own brother... He absent-mindedly put his hand to his chest, feeling still the point of the blade, remembering his stunned grief, that the elder brother he had once revered should be the first to turn his blade on another in anger, and that he himself should be the one to face it. If he had not been so astonished he doubted that he would have remained calm. Truly, it had been fortunate that the encounter had been the first of its kind. He hoped with all his heart that such things had passed with the passing of Fëanor.

   But Hador was stirring, and Fingolfin smiled and sat beside the body of his sleeping lover, helpless as a corpse, naked as a newborn, and golden as a statue. Fingolfin ran his hand down the long smooth back, and over the curve of his rear, feeling the desire flower within him, opening like a wound in the earth, spilling forth the heat that consumed him. Hador sighed happily and turned, blinking and yawning, to smile at Fingolfin, who leaned forwards and kissed the warm smooth stomach.  
   "You have not slept ?" Hador asked. Fingolfin shook his head  
   "No. Well, yes, I rested and freed my mind, but I did not lie here, with you."  
   "You are wearing too many clothes. Come, undress and join me !"

   Fingolfin laughed; the tone of command came easily to Hador, the king’s son. But to Fingolfin, a junior prince all his life, it had been difficult to acquire, and given the indifference of the sons of Fëanor to his counsel, he had clearly not mastered the voice as he should. But whether his tone convinced or no, he must send Hador away, and he must do it at once, to give him time to understand, before the camp began to stir.  
   "No. Today, I shall take you, for I must speak, and I would have your full attention."  
   Hador raised his brows, then smiled. "My lord, I await your pleasure."

   Fingolfin unfastened his breeches, then lay atop Hador, and kissed him slowly and deliberately, letting his hands speak his love, until Hador gasped and tilted his head back, exposing his throat to the hungry mouth of Fingolfin. The skin of the Mortal was hot to the touch, and Fingolfin himself, heated from within and without, moved feverishly to enter the body of his beloved.  
   Their eyes met, Fingolfin moved slowly, and stooped to lay his lips softly on the mouth he adored. But Hador spoke.  
   "What is it ? You are troubled."  
   Fingolfin laid his cheek beside his lover’s, but took hold of his arm, and raised it above his head, then, pausing to kiss him again, he took his other arm, and pinned him down. Hador looked surprised for a moment, then smiled through hooded eyes. But Fingolfin thrust deep into him, and Hador blinked, breathing heavily.

  
   As he moved, Fingolfin studied the face of his beloved; the skin a richer gold from their long journey across the plain, the large eyes, dark with desire, and the peach-like lips, swollen from kisses. Fingolfin understood the words of Hador, that he himself was as insatiable as the Mortal, but only for this, only for one lover, only for Hador. The pain returned, his love was burning away at his sense and reason, the world seemed to have been made only for this, to be with the beloved, knit so close that their breath mingled, as their spirits blended, and their flesh could not be discerned as separate. But they must part, else he himself would be destroyed.

   "I am sending you home. This very day."  
   Hador jerked as he tried to sit up in surprise, and realised that Fingolfin was holding him down. Fingolfin moved within him, and Hador parted his lips as though to speak, then lay still. He was silent, watching Fingolfin as though from afar, until the rhythms of passion drove all thought from his mind. Fingolfin watched the desire flood the mind of the Mortal, seeing the large blue eyes roll back in his head, watching the early light through the pavilion catch the angles of his cheek and jaw, the perfect symmetry of his features, and the stunning beauty that won all hearts. He could not believe that such a treasure was his, he would have given everything to have him an Elf, to be cherished forever, rather than a Mortal, who would be gone before Fingolfin had had time to learn the pathways of his thought and the corners of his heart. The grief overcame him, and as Hador arched beneath him, close to ecstasy, the tears began to fall from the eyes of Fingolfin, who almost expected to see them turn to steam, as in the forge, on the heat of the Mortal flesh. He moved faster, hearing the gasp as Hador found release, and watching him lie back, still as a tree, while he himself, sweat mingling with his tears, felt his own mind engulfed in the flames and his flesh turn molten with rapture.  
  
   They lay still, breathing together, Fingolfin found himself still holding his lover down and released one hand, then slid his own hand up to entwine his fingers with Hador’s. Hador gripped his hand for a moment, then held it gently, and with his other, stroked the smooth dark hair of the high king.  
   "Why ?" he asked simply.  
   Fingolfin drew in his breath, he had felt for a moment that the parting had happened, that they were reunited at last, but no. He had not even shared his thought, much less seen Hador ride away, and felt his own heart break.

   "Ah... you call me sire, and my lord, and king. You swear your service, your loyalty and your love. But then, when I instruct you, it is 'why ?' Do you mean 'why should I ?' Do you question my authority ?"  
   Hador looked at him as though he had never seen him before "My lord, sire, my king, your wish is my wish. Forgive my blunt words !  
   But I speak as your lover, not your servant. It is your love that I question, not your authority. For even under the onslaught of your passion, I was aware of your grief, feeling your tears with what little thought remained to me. Have there been grim tidings ? Is all well with you ? Do you tire of me ?"

   Fingolfin answered him with a passionate kiss, a kiss that to another Elf would have shown everything. For a moment Fingolfin wondered if it were precisely because Hador could perceive nothing of his thought that he felt so at peace with him. Indeed, he had often wondered how many among the Eldar could read him, could read anyone, but never spoke of their skill, or their gift, using it to advantage, while others toiled in ignorance. But Hador was anxious and alert, lying beneath the king, his body awakened and ready to move.

  
   "Oh Hador... How can I bear to part with you, now, or ever ? Tire of you ! My dearest love, I am sending you away because I can. I am sending you away because if I do not, you will meet Finrod Felagund, the most beloved of the House of Finwë, perhaps of all Elvendom, as beautiful as the morning, as charming as Irmo, and as kind as Estë. You will see him, you will fall in love with him, as everyone does, and you will break my heart."  
    Hador laughed "Is that all ? You fear a rival that I have never seen ? Poor Fingolfin, how will you live when I am not here to look after you ?" he sighed "I wish..." and kissed Fingolfin.    

   

   Lost in each other, they made love again, Hador lay still and let Fingolfin take him, watching the tears fall down the face of the king, or drop onto his own face. They did not hear the camp begin the day, nor the calls of the watch, nor the boats crossing Narog, and the shouts of welcome and delight. The guard at the door of the pavilion had to call twice before Fingolfin tore his thought from the depths of the blue eyes.  
   "What ?" he cried impatiently.  
   "Sire, we have guests, from Nargothrond, they..."  
   "No ! That is... I will soon... Please wait."  
   "Yes, my lord."

   Hador laughed and spoke softly "You are too late. He is here."  
   But Fingolfin shook his head "No. If Finrod were here they would be singing his name. It would have been the first thing the guard said. No, these are heralds, and an escort. Finrod is very correct in observance of the ceremonies." he laughed "Except when he is not ! But he is so charming it seems that whatever he does is the right way to do things."  
   Hador smiled "Well, I am sorry not to meet this paragon among Elves. But not as sorry as I am at the thought of parting from you. But where am I to go ? What do you wish of me, my lord ?"  
   Fingolfin sighed "You must return to the house of your fathers, and to yourself. The doubts that trouble your mind may become clearer to you when you sit quietly at home, as you used when a child, and dreamed of your future in the flicker of the firelight. I will return to Barad Eithel in one month, but you may return at your pleasure." He looked away, then turned to look intently at Hador "You might journey to the house of Gildis among the pines, and make yourself known to her father. I do not command this, I merely counsel. But oh, I shall miss you ! Every minute will seem an hour until you are in my arms again !"  
   He kissed Hador, then slid to the floor, fastened his breeches, and without a backwards glance, strode to the door to greet the heralds.

 

   Orodreth had come. Fingolfin nodded to himself, it was a reception for the High King of the Noldor, Finrod had sent the highest ranking courtier, his own brother, to greet the guests of honour.  
   "Orodreth ! Stars shine upon you !"  
   "My lord Fingolfin ! May you walk in the Light ! It is my honour, and pleasure, to welcome you, on behalf of king Finrod Felagund, and to escort you to Nargothrond."  
They bowed to each other, and Fingolfin led Orodreth to the pavilion. The retinue followed Orodreth, bearing caskets and a long bundle. But as they turned, Hador appeared in the doorway, the sheet wrapped around his waist, rubbing his eyes and yawning. Orodreth stopped still, there were quiet gasps from his troop, and Fingolfin turned to look at them. Orodreth drew in a hissing breath.  
   "It cannot be... Glorfindel..."  
But before Fingolfin could correct him, Hador shook himself briefly, and stood up straight, smiling at Fingolfin, then frowning at the astonished faces gaping at him. He looked down at his bare chest, blushed, bowed briefly and vanished back into the pavilion. Orodreth looked at Fingolfin.  
  "Forgive me, I thought... But when you see the face, there is no resemblance after all, just the colour, the golden... the hair..."  
   "I forgive you. I am so blinded with love for him that all others are driven from my mind. To me he is beyond compare ! Yet you speak truly, indeed, he is named Lórindol, for his beautiful hair, as Glorfindel..."

   Orodreth put his hand on the arm of Fingolfin, ignoring protocol, a look of urgent fear in his eyes "My lord, a word in private, if you please ?"  
   Fingolfin looked down at the hand, Orodreth lifted it swiftly away. But Fingolfin smiled, it was unlike the sons of Finarfin to fail in politeness "Of course, come, meet my friend Rochallor, a prince among horses."  
   The retinue stood in patient stillness as Orodreth enthused over the beautiful horse. Fingolfin hoped that Hador was dressing, and was relieved to see him emerge once more, formally dressed, to stand in dignified silence at the door to his lord’s pavilion. Finally Fingolfin turned to face Orodreth, who was stroking the long grey nose of the horse. "Speak then, I am listening."  
   "Sire, I... I beg you not to bring this Mortal to Nargothrond. For though the resemblance is slight, yet still, for a moment, I was certain that Glorfindel the lost stood before us again. The sight of this Mortal will open anew the wound in the heart of Finrod, to no avail, and I would spare him the pain. Worse still, Finrod might... might desire him... News has come from Angrod... I... But here it would be dreadful, it took so long for him to recover... You know how long he searched for the Hidden City... I would not have him set off again..."  
Fingolfin shook his head and held up his hand, and Orodreth fell silent.  
   "Your words are wise, dear Orodreth, if not eloquent. But I must tell you that before you were even sighted, I had informed Hador Lórindol that he was to be sent home. He took it ill, which consoled me a little for the parting to come. But I had given no thought to Finrod, to how he would view Hador, nor had I seen the resemblance until you spoke. No, I fear the love that Finrod would inspire in my beloved Hador, who is already pledged to Gildis the bard. And to me."

   Orodreth looked wonderingly at him "Sometimes I almost hear the Music; do you not ? I feel as the very hand of fate, steering the paths this way and that, bringing people together, or holding them apart. For this Mortal will be gone soon from the world, leaving great grief behind him. It is surely enough that your heart be pained by his loss, let us not add the grief of Finrod to the burden."  
   "Oh Orodreth, you make virtue of necessity ! I cannot endure the sight of him smiling at another, I send him away as selfishly as I keep him close, yet you make me feel that I do good, doing only what I must. No, not even that, doing what I please, because I can, because I am king, and his master."  
   "Oh thank you Fingolfin ! I... My lord. I... Gildis the bard ? They will have handsome children, she is very lovely. The words of Isca have reached us here, but no song has hinted at the radiance of your beautiful Hador. Had Maglor naught to say ?"  
   Fingolfin smiled "I do not think the sons of Fëanor even noticed the Mortal at my side. They scarcely seem to notice each other, they did not listen, to each other or to me.  
But at least in Nargothrond I shall be warmly welcomed !"

   Orodreth greeted Hador with warmth, but Fingolfin could see the puzzlement in his lover’s eyes. But Orodreth had gifts. He presented first a small jewel box to Fingolfin, who opened it with a smile, then gasped. Despite the memory of the glittering strands of Elendë, or even the memory of the Silmarils, he was unprepared for the beauty of the gem that lay sparkling in the casket. It was a great beryl, but blue, or blue-green, like the waters of Belegaer in the Light of the Trees, as they shone over Calacirya. Fingolfin held it up to catch the rays of the rising sun, and the troops cheered as it sparkled and gleamed.

   For Hador, Orodreth presented the long bundle with a bow and a smile. Hador seemed abashed, but accepted the gift gracefully, then, feeling the familiar heft of spears, opened the wrapping, eager as a boy.  
   The spears were gilded at the points, jewels glittered in the spine and wings, and the shafts were inlaid with gold. There were three, a long one for horseback, a short for throwing, and a mid-length for thrusting.  
   Hador looked from Fingolfin to Orodreth, at a loss for words. But Orodreth smiled "They are very beautiful, are they not ? They were made for Finrod, but he prefers the bow, and the sword. He says that they are too good to gather dust in his storehouse, and should be given to one who will cherish them, and use them in defence of the Elves.  
   Word of your prowess has reached Nargothrond, for Finrod feels a personal pride in the accomplishments of your people, and longs for greater harmony between Eldar and Edain. I too am glad to have met you, Hador Lórindol, well met and well named indeed."

  


 


End file.
